Chapter 62
EMBERLINE
The DiSangue island was barely a smudge on the edge of the gray-green swells, and yet, I already felt eyes watching our approach. The priests of the Order didn’t guard Emilia out of loyalty alone.
They guarded her because she was the most powerful high priestess in all three dynasties, and her power was their power.
Threaten her, threaten them all.
“We’re sure we have permission to be here?” I asked for the third time, worry churning in my already upset stomach as we flew across the water at a dangerous speed.
“Vincenzo himself granted us an hour. Which means we’ll have to talk fast, but once Emilia sees the letters, I doubt time will be a sticking point.”
Gabriel stood with his feet braced apart, coat snapping in the wind, his posture carved into something unbreakable.
Nico and Dante flanked me, along with four Dominico soldiers, and another driving the boat.
We’d all come armed, not just with weapons, but with irrefutable truth—proof of Blackwood’s involvement and of Giovanni’s reach extending even further than his appetite for power.
I only hoped this would be enough to convince her.
The dock was empty when we arrived, but as we tied up, a row of silent priests emerged from the temple, dark robes brushing over stone, throats marked by red, illuminated sigils, turning them into something sinister.
“Do you see Emilia?” I murmured to Nico, who only brushed his knuckles across mine in answer.
One priest stepped forward—taller than the rest, voice smooth and measured.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I jolted in surprise. Other than the priest who’d conducted my wedding ceremony, they never spoke. Indeed, his voice was scratchy from misuse.
Gabriel didn’t pause. “We are here to see your priestess. Vincenzo granted us an hour. Take us to her.”
Already, Gabriel’s demeanor was that of a male in full control, the ruler of a Dynasty and a male you did not want to cross. Pride burst in my chest, pride and respect, something I never thought I’d feel toward one of my enemies… but we were never really enemies, were we?
After the briefest hesitation, the priest stepped back and dipped his head. “This way, sire. Apologies. We must exercise caution in these tumultuous times.” He swept his arm out, and we walked ahead, the nape of my neck prickling in warning.
Something about this felt off. Emilia always met us in person. Dread trickled into my bones, and I wondered if we had just walked into something we might not walk out of.
During the day, the high-ceilinged temple was as rich as any palace, black, gold-veined walls sparkling in the single shaft of sunlight spilling through the hole in the ceiling, the priest leading us past those cabinets, still full of ghastly relics.
I absently wondered if they were just for show, or if Emilia used them in her rituals, and if the blood on them was fresh or ancient.
I carefully stepped over the geometric patterns in the floor, every footstep echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
My instincts were going haywire, and mine weren’t the only ones. Dante’s eyes were filled with flames, casting a faint glow over his face. This place felt like a trap, ready to spring shut, and we were the helpless little mice marching to their doom.
This temple held eons of secrets, and the entire Order was dangerous and filled with dark magic none of us understood, but something felt off.
There was an emptiness usually filled by Emilia’s towering presence.
“Where is everyone?” I whispered.
Nico’s jaw flexed, his teeth grit tight. “This feels wrong. We should turn around and leave.”
“I’m taking you to Lady Emilia,” the priest said serenely, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, his dark eyes unreadable. “She is just ahead.”
None of us was breathing when we stopped in the doorway, not believing what we were seeing.
Emilia lay on a raised platform, draped in white, not her signature red, loose, dark hair fanned around her like a halo. For one suspended second, I thought she was dead, then her chest moved, so slightly, I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“She is in stasis,” the priest explained. “A holy state where she drifts between this realm and the next.” He didn’t elaborate which realms, exactly.
I shivered, wondering if this was some common DiSangue ritual… or something more sinister.
The Order was so notoriously secretive, their rituals so ancient, there was no way of knowing, but from Nico’s reaction… this wasn’t normal.
“And she won’t be waking up any time soon,” a voice said behind us. We turned to see Vincenzo striding toward us, dark eyes narrowed, gold sigil gleaming at his throat. Unlike the priests, his was jewelry, not ink, and I had to wonder why.
Was he too vain to be permanently marked?
Or not quite dedicated enough to have earned the right?
Paulo trailed behind him, fidgety, less certain. The surrounding priests dipped their heads as the brothers passed by in a show of subservient respect. Nico’s eyes met mine, as though we both had the same thought. This is not good.
As far as I was concerned, I’d tolerated these two sniveling little shits ever since we were children, but there was a dangerous air to them now, like boys who’d been gifted a terrible power.
And neither of them was steady enough to wield anything more than a few sharp words at a social event. I should know, I’d been on the receiving end more than once.
“Gabriel.” Vincenzo kept his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think we’d see you until tomorrow at the council meeting.”
“Council meeting?” Gabriel’s brow knit together.
“The special meeting Giovanni called to vote in the next Don, after your father’s tragic death.
” His gleaming smile sparkled with spite.
“You didn’t think your ascension was a foregone conclusion, did you?
Great power changes hands so seldom, so perhaps you’re just…
out of touch with the current state of things. ”
Gabriel stiffened, his back rigid. Nico moved closer, and so did Dante, flanking him while I studied Emilia. She seemed unharmed—there was faint color in her cheeks, and she didn’t look to be in distress.
“What happened here? Why is your mother in stasis?” Gabriel bore down on the brothers, his tone lethal. “Is she alive?”
“For now.” Vincenzo smiled. “She’s safe enough. Untouched. Unable to be manipulated by outside forces.”
Ah. Outside forces like us.
Subtly, Nico shifted closer to the platform, eyes scanning the space around Emilia’s body, his expression darkening. “This is no natural stasis. There’s evidence of magic being used to keep her unconscious.”
“To help her relax. Mother tends to fight the blessed sleep,” Vincenzo said lightly, but my eyes were on Paulo, chewing on his thumb, his dark eyes flicking between his mother’s unconscious form and his brother.
Stasis was uncommon—a state of deep unconsciousness used to heal terrible injuries or for vampires needing to survive unsurvivable situations, like extreme weather or starvation. I’d heard of vampires spending a hundred years in this state.
I stepped forward, heart pounding. “Wake her up. We’ve discovered something vital to the state of the Dynasty and to your Order. Proof she needs to see.”
Okay, so I was stretching the truth, but I wasn’t about to tell these assholes anything until I spoke directly to Emilia.
“And you brought this proof with you?” Vincenzo asked. More priests filed into the room, lining the walls around us. The air hummed with repressed magic, those sigils glowing brighter. “If so, I would like to verify its authenticity myself.”
“I wouldn’t show you the menu to a pizza parlor,” Gabriel snapped. “Wake up Emilia, and we will speak with her. I don’t trust you,” he said plainly. “Either of you. And this whole thing,”—he swept his blue eyes over the assembled priests—“this reeks of treason.”
And here I’d thought I wasn’t in a diplomatic mood.
“Vincenzo.” I smiled, ignoring the way Dante was rumbling behind me.
Not that I blamed him. Priests blocked every doorway.
We were trapped at the moment, and while I had great faith in my husband’s ability to burn this place to the ground, I also knew everyone on this island possessed powers of their own.
Powers I did not want to test.
“Your mother and I had a misunderstanding not so long ago,” I explained in a reasonable tone. “This information is a peace offering. Me trying to put things right. If you can’t wake her today, then perhaps we should come back at a better time.”
“My mother was a fool to trust you. None of you will ever set foot on our island again,” Paulo warned. “Give my brother the papers in your pocket, or we will take them by force.”
For a moment, I just blinked, unable to believe Paolo DiSangue had actually threatened us, the sniveling little shit.
“I see your thoughts, Emberline.” He looked like a rat, gnawing at his thumb. “Those letters cannot leave this place.”
This little fucker could read minds?
“There’s no reason for this to get ugly,” Vincenzo cut in smoothly. “So, give them to me, or like my brother said, we will take them. Look around you. You’re outnumbered.”
Nico stepped closer, his body a wall of muscle behind me, while Gabriel pressed himself against my other side, both of them tensed and ready to move. “Try to take them, and see what happens, you little fucks,” Nico snarled.
“Fine, have it your way.” Vincenzo lifted his hand, and priests flooded the room like a living shadow, crimson sigils flaring, magic sparking at their fingertips, the air ripe with ozone as they pounced.
The moment the first priest put hands on me, Dante erupted.
Flames roared to life, sweeping outward in a blazing arc that forced them to fall back, robes igniting, skin blistering, the very air screaming. Heat slammed into me, sharp and blistering, but Nico was already there, throwing up a wall of shadow, and I could breathe again.
“Stay with me.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me behind him as shadows wrapped around me, him, and Gabriel like a shield. To our right, the doorway was—mostly—clear, except for a few smoldering bodies to leap over.
“Both of you, stay close. We have to get to the boat,” Nico ordered, his voice tight, eyes focused on the route ahead, a narrow gauntlet of doorways and shadows.
We moved fast, Gabriel crowding behind us in the narrow corridor, the three of us moving in a bubble of darkness, the screams behind us intensifying, along with the reek of burning flesh.
Hallways stretched out around us like a maze while priests attacked from all sides, dropped by a knife, a bullet, a well-placed strike. Behind us, fire roared and roared like a dragon. Dante was chaos personified, and while part of me wanted to go back and help him, I knew I’d die in that room.
Bursting out into the open air felt like surfacing from drowning.
The boat was still there—thank the gods—surrounded by a contingent of priests who darted toward us when they saw us escaping.
Between the three of us and our guards, we finished them off, jumped in the boat, and tore away from the dock.
“What about Dante?” I yelled over the roar of the boat motor.
“He can take care of himself,” Nico yelled back, just as a ball of flame erupted over the arched roofline of the temple. “See? Stop worrying.”
Only when the island faded into the distance did reality sweep in with terrible finality.
Emilia wasn’t dead, but she was gone, and Vincenzo was in charge. Weak, spineless Vincenzo, who’d caved to my uncle or Lord Blackwood, and tomorrow…
Gabriel had a council meeting to attend.
One that would decide his fate.